


Capsize (Mermaid AU)

by pajama_girl



Category: reader x bangtan, reader x jimin - Fandom, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: BTS x Reader, F/M, Sailing, bangtan boys - Freeform, bts - Freeform, jimin x reader - Freeform, mermaid au, park jimin - Freeform, ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pajama_girl/pseuds/pajama_girl
Summary: Confidence will get you most places in life. Too much and you can end up in drowning in the ocean. After a sailing race goes wrong, you’re stuck in the frigid water with no rescue in sight. As you lose consciousness, your savior comes, adorned in golden scales.





	Capsize (Mermaid AU)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first ao3 post. I have a Tumblr, pajama-girl, with the same story. Be sure to go there to check out this story and more!
> 
> This was a ride to write. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Also, should I make this into a series? I have some plans in mind but I’d love to hear some feedback and if you guys love it enough to read more!!

Peeking out of the silver clouds, the summer sun kisses its greeting onto your cheeks. You glance at your waterproof watch, an early birthday present from your parents, and realize there’s only fifteen minutes until the race begins. Unintentionally, your palms begin to feel familiarly damp and clammy, sticking to your clothes as you try to wipe away the tell-tale sign of nervousness.

Pushing your jitters aside, you search for your parents among the swarm of families gathered on the dock. Many parents have come out to show their support despite the fact that the race is starting at the crack of dawn. Noticing a splotch of yellow to your right, you glance at it and recognize it to be your mother’s old, worn out raincoat. The skies were clear, no blemish marring the azure expanse, yet she insisted on wearing it.

Besides your mother, you father flashes you a thumbs up and shouts, “You’re gonna kill it out there!” You blush furiously, crimson smoldering its way across your cheeks at the sudden exclamation. Several heads turn to look at you, wondering who the shout could have been for. Oh how you desperately wish you could jump into the frigid water if only to calm the fire in your cheeks.

This is your first professional race. After being forced to attend a sailing camp when your mother deemed your constant moping around the house “too depressing,” you discovered an honest passion in the sport. The sun and salt intrigued you, but what really captivated you was the weight of the sheets in your hands, the creaking of the rudder and the spray of the water as you alone decided your path.

The first few weeks of sailing were tough. You were hit in the head more times than you could count by the boom, and everytime you tried to rig the sailboat without instruction, knots and tangles formed where they shouldn’t have. You didn’t let this discourage you. In fact, if anything, your constant failures spurred you to try harder. Now, you had amassed an array of sailing techniques and while you may not have had natural born talent, you had hard earned experience and skill.

So now you were here, under the August sun, participating in the Incheon Regatta. You had sailed many times alone around the bay, but you had never gone as far as you would today. The trip to Busan from Incheon would take a full eight hours, and while you were the best of your program, you couldn’t help the seedling of doubt that planted itself in your heart. What if this was too much? Could you manage eight hours by yourself on the vast ocean, with no one to rely on? Before the seedling can sprout, you squash it. At this point, you can’t afford to let your emotions get the best of you.  

You say this, but your eyes can’t help but wander to the other participants. They look confident as they hold their sailing sheets, their boats sleek and expensive. You feel inferior, even though you know you shouldn’t. You had worked nonstop and diligently for the past few months in order to hone your skills, and your boat wasn’t too shabby either. Shining in the bright morning sun, your RS Aero fit in with the other racing boats with its lightweight but sturdy frame and racing equipment.

A voice breaks the restless silence of the dock. A burly man appears in front of you, bald head gleaming in the light. He explains the route and the rules of the race. You tune out.  This was all information you had briefed a hundred times over. You are well prepared because you desperately want to win. Although not a high ranking race, if you win this, your name will spread in the sailing world.

A whistle blows and all the racers depart the port. The numerous white sails that litter the water look like wings, and may as well be with the speed and agility they possess as they glide over the sea.

Hands slippery on the sheets, either from the salt water or sweat, you guide the Aero effortlessly to the front of the mass of boats. Glancing back one more time at the shrinking figures of your parents, you take a deep breath and prepare yourself for the journey to come.

You look at your watch– it’s 8:30. The race started at 6:30 and now two hours later, you had secured a considerable lead. You take this time to breath. Although it isn’t wise to slack just because you’re temporarily first, you decide just a few minutes won’t hurt. It is when you set down the sheets that you notice the gathering of clouds in the sky. You feel a slight trickle of dread in your stomach, and your mother, donning her raincoat flashes in your mind. Maybe you should have listened to her. A storm when you’re this far out at sea would not be good at all. You’re trained in how to handle situations like this, but you’d like to avoid it if you can.

The water is relatively calm, so you let the paranoia go, hoping whatever clouds that are gathered now will dissipate in time. You collect the sheets and prepare to start sailing again. You’re a quarter in to this race; if you keep up the pace, you’ll reach Busan in no time.

The next time you look at your watch, it reads 9:15 and unlike you had hoped, the clouds don’t dissipate. They continue to gather and gather until they form an ugly, threatening mass that looms over your head. In a mere forty-five minutes, the sea had transformed from tranquil to a series of angry, thrashing waves that slap and jostle you. You can’t do anything but clutch at your boat.

Usually, you loved the lightness of your boat. When speed and agility is the most important thing, your RS Aero is the perfect boat to use, but now, as the sea violently rocks you from side to side, you wish your boat had a little more substance to it.

You make a grab at the wildly swinging rudder and attempt to ride out the storm. Just as you think you can survive the wrath of the sea, a massive wave rises in front of your eyes. You watch, frozen in fear, as the water rises higher and higher until you have to crane your neck to even see the crest of it. Time seems to still as the wave hangs over you, and all at once it begins again, and the wave rushes towards you. It slams into you with a vengeance, angry that you’ve intruded onto its territory. You hurriedly close your eyes and brace for impact. All the training and experience you have accumulated in your short sailing career couldn’t have prepared you for the ruthlessness of the ocean.

The wave collides into your small frame, your neck snapping back at the force of it. With your eyes closed, you don’t see the boom hurtling towards you and it crashes into your unsuspecting head. You cry out in pain only for salt water to gush into your mouth. You choke on it as it burns its way into your lungs. Unable to see or breathe, you’re seized by an intense panic, fear coursing through your veins almost as fiercely as the wave is thrashing you around.

An eternity seems to pass until the wave ceases, and even then you’re left with a throbbing headache and burning lungs. You cough and hack as the water inhibits your ability to breathe. After coughing so hard your throat hurts, you can finally gasp for air and you almost cry tears of relief. Peeling your eyes open, the storm hasn’t let up. Too distracted by surviving the waves, you hadn’t noticed it was raining until it started pelting you in the face.

“Just great,” you mutter to yourself, voice hoarse from the coughing. “I can’t stop now, not when I’m so close to Busan.” At least you think you are. You really hope so.

Mustering up what little strength you have left, you wrap the sheets twice around your hands to prevent them from slipping out of your grip. You clutch onto the rudder for dear life, praying to whatever gods were out there you could survive this storm.

You manage to get past a few waves, so you almost let yourself smile. Almost. That is until you see a monster of a wave building up in front of your boat, and after suffering the last collision, you can’t find it in you to defend yourself. You close your eyes once more, but this time, instead of just roughly jostling you around, the wave turtles your boat. You don’t realise this until you’re submerged in the water, its icy touch invading your senses, the boat on top of you. More waves continue to crash into you, their intensity not decreasing at all even though you’re underwater. Shooting open, your eyes struggle to see, but it’s no use. Vision is futile in these murky depths, the world a spinning blur of darkness.

You’re running out of air rapidly. You kick haphazardly to get to the surface, but your foot is caught on something. Grabbing wildly at it, you realize your foot is caught in the sail sheets. Sheer panic invades your senses and seizes your heart. It takes control of your muscles, causing your limbs to kick out in a frenzy to escape.

You scream at the unfairness of it all. You were first for so long and now you’re going to die at sea, with a burning throat and drowning lungs. Enraged, you continue to scream even as your vision starts to go fuzzy–despairingly, you realize too late that no one will hear you.

With one last gurgle, your consciousness starts to fade, but before you are completely gone, you see a glimmer in the murky depths. I’m going crazy, you think, this is a pre-death hallucination. Even as you think that, the glimmer gets nearer and soon, warm arms envelop you. The sturdy muscles holding you close feel so real, but you don’t have time to dwell on what is reality because eventually your eyes close and true darkness closes in.


End file.
